Neopolitan
by Evil-Ekat
Summary: What started off as a simple protest against his father turns into an encounter with a simple ice cream salesman.


**This fic is a strange one. I originally started out with this being from the perspective of the "Simple Ice Cream Salesman," from AAII. I changed my mind half-way through it. Then I had doubts and thought it should be from deKiller's POV, but then I reconfirmed I should stick with Miles'. In other words this went through so many different re-writes that I have no choice but to post this.  
**

 **Read, review, and enjoy!**

* * *

It was a summer's day, and with that, came summer storms. The afternoon was still sunny, but a threatening band of grey sat on the horizon. There was an occasional flash of white within them, but he couldn't hear anything above the din of traffic, and their own, laboured breaths as they walked home. It was sweltering hot outside. He regretted not following his father's advice and dressing a little more casually that day, but he would sooner wear Larry's clothes than admit the truth.

"Why do you have to wait outside today?" Larry asked

Sighing in frustration, Miles brushed the sweaty hair from his forehead. He hated the awful, sticky feeling which held to his skin like cling wrap. In small gusts the wind would pick up, stirring dirt and pushing the clouds nearer. It could do nothing to cool the humid air which filled his lungs.

"Father says they're not allowing children in for this case. And that if I even think about entering the building..."

His voice faded out. It was so hot, he could scarcely force the words out of his mouth. A ring of fire seemed to form around his neck, his collar was too tight, and his skin prickled with sweat beneath it. Phoenix and Larry knew what he meant to tell them anyway.

"But why aren't you allowed in?" Phoenix wondered. "You're the most grown-up kid in our grade!"

He was already overheating, but Phoenix had somehow made it worse by speaking. Even his ears were alight now- not that anyone but himself knew he was now red in pleased embarrassment.

"Maybe one of the witnesses swears a lot or something," suggested Larry. "He might be afraid you'll write them down and study them like everything else they say."

A blush of a different kind filled the remainder of his face. He could not muster up the energy to fight now, so he let the remark slide. They were almost at the top of the hill, he could see the courthouse in the distance. With that came shade. They could sit in the front garden while they waited for his father to finish.

"If I can't go in the building, I can still stand outside of it until he's finished," he declared.

Their feet pounded heavily on the pavement. It was as if with each step, his legs grew more leaden, and his pulse more intense.

"Yeah," Larry could not keep energetic. "Let's stick it to the old people. We'll teach 'em."

Huffing and puffing, they flopped down in the lawn the moment they reached it. There were probably pesticides in it, and he was risking getting grass stains, but he didn't care. All they could do was stare at the bright sky until painful dots swirled before them, and darkness took up the corners of their vision. Out of the corner of his eye, he saw someone leave the courthouse.

 _"Father perhaps?"_ Miles hopefully thought, momentarily forgetting he was mad at him. _"We can get in the car then... Air conditioning..."_

It was just a simple bailiff, he recognized the uniform. He walked towards them, then past, to a vendor who was selling...

"Ice... cream..."

A collective understanding was made, they noticed the dapper man with the cart of ice cream. He stood under the dark shade of a yew tree, yet his pink uniform stood out brightly. The corners of his well-trimmed mustache turned up as he smiled brightly at the customer.

"The usual, Sir?"

"Please," he replied, with a sharp jerk of his head.

Wisps of mist rose from the freezer as he opened it. With a strange grace, he bent over, and took a generous scoop of vanilla. A coating of yellow sprinkles went on top, practically concealing all the glistening ice cream. The bailiff turned his head a moment, to reach for his wallet. In that brief flash, there was a twitch of his hands. A paper card, the same soft pink of his clothes, was slipped between the folds of a napkin and wrapped around the cone.

"Thank-you, have a nice day."

"Adieu."

As he passed by, the bailiff gave them a rude look.

"Larry how much money do you have?" Phoenix asked, turning on his side.

There was a clink of change, as Larry went turned his pockets inside-out.

"I've got fifty cents."

"And I've got a dollar and thirty. Miles?"

Miles tried to raise his head, but he was too tired.

"Just go through my pockets."

Groping hands went through his blazer and pant pockets. It was just Phoenix and Larry, so he didn't mind as much as he could have.

"You've got one and twenty. So we've each got enough for one!"

The proclamation seemed to fill them with a new energy. They clamored to their feet, and somehow headed towards the vendor. Miles found that he was tripping over his own feet, he could barely walk a straight line.

"Here, lemme' take your books," Phoenix said, already pulling them from his aching arms.

That left Larry holding the money, and he wanted to protest, but speaking took so much effort. He made a small noise of gratitude, and kept walking. Hot handfuls of change- four nickels, six quarters, and fifteen dimes- were shoved onto the counter.

"What can I get you boys?"

"One chocolate, one vanilla, one strawberry, please."

"Yellow sprinkles on the strawberry," Larry chimed in.

"Coming right up."

When the freezer was opened again, he almost wanted to fall inside of it. Already he could feel himself leaning towards the cylindrical vats of ice cream. He tried to stand back on his heels, and he found himself reeling backwards. It was a dizzying sensation to be away from the chill of the freezer. With wide, hungry eyes, he watched as Phoenix was served first. Then it was Larry's turn.

"A bowl or cone- oh my," with a twitch of his hand, the yellow sprinkles fell to the sidewalk, and scattered everywhere. "Will orange ones be alright?"

Larry just gave a tired nod. And finally, it was his turn to receive ice cream. They began the walk to a nearby bench. One foot after the other, scraping the sidewalk. The paper bowl was cool in his cupped hands, yes, he no longer felt as painfully hot as he once had. In fact, he could feel very little around him, beyond the steady thumping of warm blood in his veins. The shuffling of his feet along the ground...

 _"Oh, the ground, quite."_

And so it was. On his swaying feet, it lurched towards him before jumping back. It was getting closer.

 _"Closer..."_

"Miles!" "Edgey!"

The greenish light which had streamed through the trees flickered out. The sun was blotted by the first of many encroaching, grey clouds. It was going to rain soon, everyone knew it and was inside. In fact, the streets were deserted. No students were out, beyond the three of them. The silly pigeons which normally lived in the garden were nowhere to be seen. Traffic, which should have been busier during this part of the day, had evaporated. The world was still, as if everyone was waiting for something to happen.

Even the vendor was casually closing up shop. With elegant motions, he fit each of the twenty-three coins they'd given into paper rolls. Whitish dust- powdered sugar maybe? Was that _normal?_ \- which coated the yellow sprinkles was beginning to melt to the sidewalk. He swept most of it up with a dustpan. Clearing the evidence of the spill away. The _evidence..._

"C'mon, snap out of it!"

The command drew his eyes away from the salesman. He became aware of how firmly his shoulders were being squeezed, and how fingers were prying at the collar around his neck. Next, his bow tie came off. Somebody had taken away his shoes and peeled off his socks. Blades of grass tickled his pale arms, he tried to move them.

"W-what?"

"You overheated," the words were laced with a peculiar-sounding worry. It made his stomach do flip-flops.

Larry had taken the napkins which came with their ice cream and folded them into accordion shapes- fans. The draft was slight, but it worked. He was a little less woozy.

"'S what happens when you wear formal clothes in hot weather!"

Blinking helped clear his vision. He sat up, looking around. They were a little ways from the stand, he was laid out on the lawn. His friends hovered over him in concern, they were talking to him about something. He could see Phoenix's lips moving but all he could think about was close their faces were. It was uncomfortable. He was grimy and confused, and those frustratingly large eyes were staring at him.

"A-are you going to be ok?"

At the beginning, his voice was little more than a nervous squeak. He was blinking furiously, as if he were trying to restrain tears. It was almost comically easy to make Phoenix cry, he was so _dramatic._

"I'm fine."

"B-but you nearly-!"

Ice cream was pressed to his check. The bowl that was. It gave him a jolt, he nearly crashed into Phoenix's chin because of it. Phoenix yelped and fell away. They both glared at Larry.

"What? It helped!"

He looked around some more. All their school things were scattered about the sidewalk. Phoenix's ice cream was in the middle of it, the bowl having landed face-down. Larry's and his own were still intact, as one was held against the side of his face, and the other by his neck.

"I had to drop it to catch you," he explained.

"It's my fault too," Larry confessed. "I accidentally pushed it out of his hands when I caught your shoulders."

"S-sorry," his throat still felt rough. "You can take mine."

"It's not your fault for fainting!" Larry said with a roll of his eyes. "So I'm the one who owes Phoenix ice cream!"

He should have followed his father's suggestion. Phoenix looked a single step away from bursting into tears, and he was to blame. The thought of making Phoenix cry created a feeling even worse than fainting. He was _not_ going to be the reason for tears, he had to make it up to him somehow!

"Well the balance of probabilities shows that this is sixty percent my fault, so I should be paying the same amount in damages!"

"The balance of _what now?"_

"I'm not taking sixty percent of your ice cream!" Phoenix interrupted.

They both rounded on him.

"Stay out of this Phoenix!"

Their bickering resumed, even as Phoenix, tried to pull them apart. He was not letting Larry share when it was actually his fault.

"Why do you even want to share?" Miles suspiciously asked. "You're eternally mooching off both of us!"

"Maybe because I owe Nick money! What reason do you have Edgey?"

"Miles, Larry-"

"We just need to divide it properly," Miles said. "I give half, and you give half."

"Yeah, that's fair!"

Seemingly haven come to an agreement, they both nodded. Larry dropped his clenched, threatening fist. Miles no longer pointed as if he were objecting. Peace did not last long, it barely held for three seconds before Phoenix chose to run his mouth.

"I don't think that adds up mathematically."

A deep warning rumbled from within the clouds. Fallen leaves dragged across the asphalt, eerily rattling.

"Edgey, you're the best at math. Figure it out!"

"That's er-" Miles blustered, but could not think of anything to say. They had just started improper and mixed-number fractions yesterday, he was still learning it!

"Hey Mister-"

The salesman had packed up, and was wheeling his stand past them. Without hesitation, or even taking his eyes away from the path ahead of him, he answered, "with two whole ice creams and three of you, each receives roughly two-sixths. If you divide both into thirds, you can take one of each flavor."

Larry had not even finished speaking. They stared at each other incredulously, trying to understand just how he knew the solution, and how they would carry it out.

"Ummm..."

How did one even divide an irregular shape into thirds to begin with? Did that actually make sense? Did it add up properly? He tried to think about how one would visualize such a scenario, yet all he could see when he closed his eyes were painful, white spots. His head was beginning to hurt, even with considerably less layers of clothing.

"Guys, I don't even like strawberry that much."

"Nick what the heck?!"

"Why wouldn't you tell us that earlier?!"

Flecks of rain began, softly landing against the canopy. It was fine at first, the icy water was a welcoming way to cool down. An arc of lightning unfurled. With the thunder that followed, a deluge was suddenly upon them. Yelping in shock, they scrambled to get their school books and his clothes. Screaming, they ran circles in the garden, slipping on the grass and falling into puddles as they searched for a dry place.

The solution came in the amused form of the salesman. With a flourish, he presented the large parasol from his cart.

"Won't you need this?" Phoenix asked.

Tendrils of steam rose from the asphalt, fogging up the monocle he wore. The siren of an ambulance sounded in the distance.

"No, I shan't be needing it any longer," he simply said. "My business will soon be finished here."

In unison, they chorused, "thank-you!"

They sat by the wall of the courthouse, using it to lean their new umbrella. It was barely large enough for the three of them and their books to be under, but it was better than nothing. They were soaked to the bone, and clothes sticking to them like second skins. Out of instinct more than anything, he huddled closer to his friends, and they did the same. He had gone from too hot to freezing cold. It had been refreshing to feel the sweat leave his skin, but blades of grass and mud had taken its place. His legs were splattered, and his shoes were just about ruined. He was going to get in so much trouble for that... Well it didn't matter if his father was angry, because he had been forbidden from entering. So really, he wasn't allowed to be cross!

With chattering teeth, they watched as he resumed his leisurely stroll out of the gardens. The rain did not seem to irk him in the slightest. They soon lost sight of his pink shirt. He had simply vanished into the downpour.

"W-well, this s-sucks," Larry summed up.

He was staring at the three abandoned ice creams, watching as the rain carried them and their spoons away.

"A-an a-apt description."

How was it the weather could take such a dramatic turn? They could barely see a few feet in front of them now, it was raining so hard. From the murky darkness, flashing lights emerged, almost as intense as the storm's. The white of the ambulance stood out starkly. It pulled up to the curb. Workers clad in reflective green clothing exited, and raced their way up the steps. They emerged with a figure on a stretcher.

A bailiff.

Following the ER team was a surge of people: curious onlookers, reporters, and fellow bailiffs all tailed after the stretcher, watched and chattered amongst themselves as they drove away. Heading in the opposite direction the ice cream salesman had come from. The police arrived, and more people were exiting the courthouse.

"Do you think that was-?"

There was no need to finish the question, because they already knew what he was going to say. Despite the excitement, the heavy rain could not keep anyone outside for long. People steadily trickled back into the building, bundling their coats around themselves and shaking the water from their hair. One, lone figure remained, it was impossible to tell who it was from such a distance. Then, they approached in their direction, and he steadily realized who it was.

"Miles, what are you doing here?" His father crouched, so he was level with them. His glasses had fogged up like the salesman's, and they were speckled with droplets. "You all look half-drowned."

Miles tried to appear defiant, but it was difficult while soaking wet and shivering.

"I-I'm not _in_ the courthouse."

He laughed at the explanation, which hardly made him feel any better. Shuddering, he crossed his arms, and huffed in annoyance.

"And here I was, thinking you were lucky the rain had held out until you would have gotten home." Then he looked at his friends. "What are you doing out here?"

"S-sticking it to t-the m-man!" Phoenix declared.

"Y-yeah! Take that!" Larry said, pumping a fist. It hit the umbrella and more water came tumbling down on them. The trio all shrieked in shock. And again, he chuckled.

"Well, do you feel you've made your point?"

Miserably, they nodded.

"We're having an hour's recess if you'd like me to-?"

"I want to go home," he plaintively said.

"Me too."

"Me three."

His long trench coat was draped around the three of them. They stumbled to their feet, doing their best to disturb the grass and water on their gangly legs. Phoenix was in the middle, and he held the umbrella. They kept their arms linked together to stop themselves from walking in different directions. Larry closed his eyes the moment they got in the car, and promptly fell asleep. He was exhausted too, it was such a relief to be out of the elements. Phoenix didn't even seem to mind that he was leaning on his shoulder…

"Where did you get that umbrella from?"

The question somehow sounded odd. He seemed interested in the answer, but troubled as well. When he opened his eyes a touch, he saw his father staring at the shell-patterned umbrella.

"Ice cream," he explained, words slurred with fatigue.

Phoenix completed the half-formed thought.

"He was really nice."

He went silent, allowing them to peacefully rest.

Above the quiet pattering of rain, an ambulance wailed.

 _ **Fin**_


End file.
